


Lizzie McGuire Goes To College

by threegee



Category: Lizzie McGuire (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Multi, One-Shots, every scene its own story, why write one pairing when I can write them all?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threegee/pseuds/threegee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.   Contents may vary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Making Plans

**Author's Note:**

> For @shakespeareandpunk, fellow nostalgia warrior and shipper extraordinaire.
> 
> Everything belongs to Terri Minsky and the Disney Channel; I'm just playing.

Gordo’s sprawled on his stomach on the quad, checking his equations, when a shadow falls over his notebook and a pair of combat boots crunch on some of his scrap papers.

"Careful — what if you just stepped on the proofs of a future Nobel Prize winner?" he says, sitting up.

Miranda flops down next to him and grins. ”I’ve been stepping on your work for years, why stop now?”

"True, you’ve never been able to recognize genius. How was work?"

"Boring as ever. Hartmann forgot to shower before his shift again, so that was gross. I really need to get transferred out of the kitchens, but there aren’t any other work-study jobs open this semester." She tucks a lock of neon blue hair behind her ear. "You up for Tudge’s party on Saturday? Someone said the team’s getting a keg."

"I’m not sure. Lizzie was thinking of going home this weekend, I said I might drive her." Gordo carefully doesn’t look at Miranda as he says this, because sure enough —

"Oh, Gordo! She can take the bus for once! I know chivalry is your thing, but this is getting ridiculous. Do you really want to spend your whole weekend in the car? AGAIN?”

"I just like hanging out with her, is all," he mutters. "We’ve both been so busy lately."

Miranda punches him in the shoulder. ”You’re so sweet it makes me sick.” 

"Nah, that’s just leftover _eau de Hartmann_.”


	2. Partners

Every Tuesday afternoon they cram at the third table from the left in the student union lobby, not too close to the noise from the bowling lanes but not too far from the coffee/cupcakes stand. It’s the perfect place to study, Lizzie thinks, because it’s not as lonely as a dorm room or as intimidating as the library. Gordo always says she shouldn’t be so scared by glowering philosophy majors, but he can talk books with anyone.

Today Gordo’s not saying much, though. He keeps twisting around in his seat to look at the door, as if he’s waiting for someone. What’s the deal? Lizzie’s never seen him so distracted.

Miranda drains her third cup of coffee — seriously, Lizzie doesn’t know how she sleeps — and groans. ”It’s 4:30 already and I’m not even halfway through with this problem set! I might as well just hand the barista last week’s paycheck, I’m going to need at least four more cups to finish.”

"Has anyone seen my copy of _Wuthering Heights_? If I don’t start drafting this essay tonight, I’m dead.” Lizzie bends under the table, rifling through her messenger bag for the dog-eared paperback. “Aha!” She sits up triumphantly in time to see Ethan Craft approach.

"Hey Miranda, hey Lizzie, how’s it hanging?" It’s 40 degrees out and Ethan’s wearing open-toed sandals and cargo shorts. Lizzie can’t believe she had a crush on him freshman year. "Uh, Gordon, you free for, uh, the orgo?"

Lizzie expects Gordo to tell Ethan to get lost — they’re _busy_ — but he’s already closing his laptop. ”Yeah, definitely.”

"Cool, I’m gonna just, um, grab some Red Bull. Uh, do you want something?" Ethan’s staring at the floor, his ears red.

"Uh, no thanks." Gordo’s staring at the table and his cheeks match Ethan’s ears. Ethan walks over to the vending machines and Gordo begins shoving all his stuff in his backpack. Lizzie grabs his arm.

"Gordo! Where are you going? With ETHAN?"

"He asked if I’d help him finish the lab, that’s all. It’s no big deal."

"But — "

"Look, I’ll see you tomorrow, OK? At the _Mad Men_ marathon.” And like that, Gordo’s gone.

Lizzie turns back to Miranda in shock. ”Since when does Gordo abandon us on a Tuesday?”

Miranda’s smirking at her. ”More importantly, since when does _business major _Ethan Craft take organic chemistry?”__


	3. Early Morning

The seminar starts in ten minutes, and Miranda still can’t find her bra.

At this point she’s checked under the bed, behind the door, in the cushions of the loveseat, and in every bag they walked in with last night, but no black cotton sports bra has appeared.  It’s not like Miranda’s really all that stacked — not like the blonde Amazon currently snoring cutely under the covers — but the girls need a little  _something_ as support, you know?  Also it feels kinda disrespectful to the spirit of Gloria Anzaldúa to show up half naked.  This is the first class Miranda’s really cared about in over a year.

Waking Kate before 9 AM is pretty risky these days, but Miranda doesn’t have a choice, since her dorm is on the east side of campus, exactly in the wrong direction to dash home and grab another one.    She leans over and begins shaking.

"Mmmrrrrrrwhaaaaat?"  Kate sits up and glares blearily.  Funny how she looks just as stunning in sweats with tangled hair as she does on the dance floor in full glam.   "It’s only 8:20!  I’ve killed a man for less than this, you know."

"I moved your stilettos out of reach first," Miranda laughs.  "My bra’s missing.  I checked all the obvious places.   Do you remember seeing me put it anywhere weird?"

"Do you think I can remember a damn thing without caffeine?  And no, I was a little  _distracted_  last night.”  Kate arches backwards towards her dresser and pulls something blue and frilly out of the top drawer.  ”Here, wear this.”

"It won’t fit!   You’re so much bigger than me."

"It’s a camisole with a built-in, idiot.  Just put it on, you’re going to be late."

There’s definitely some extra air up top, but when Miranda pulls her Ramones t-shirt (vintage, hand-me-down from her dad) over the camisole, it’s almost good enough.    She heads to the doorway, grabbing her bike helmet from Kate’s desk.  ”Thanks, you’re fantastic.”  

"I know."  Kate blows her a kiss, then promptly pulls the sheets back over her head.


	4. Late Night

There’s nothing like eating pizza at three o’clock in the morning.

Lizzie should be panicking right now, since she has at least eight more articles to copyedit before tomorrow’s edition goes out and she hasn’t even looked at her Italian texbook since Sunday.  She’s been in the newspaper computer lab for the past seven hours working on layout and her feet fell asleep ages ago.   Lizzie should be totally losing it, shrieking and freaking and tearing her hair, because there is absolutely no way she’s going to bed before sunrise at this point.

Instead, she’s sprawled on the floor, covered in ink and pizza grease, meditating dreamily on the the meanings of the cracks in the ceiling tiles.  ”I think that one looks kind of like Rihanna.  See how her hair sticks up right by the corner?”

"I was thinking more like Niels Bohr, but sure.  Is there any mushroom left?"  Gordo’s typing up some really complicated-looking project with graphs and charts and stuff.  He’s got sauce on his chin.  

Lizzie passes him the last slice.  ”I don’t know you can eat that.  Mushrooms are so gross.  They’re slimy!”

"I won’t take food criticism from a girl who puts ketchup in her egg salad."

Gordo’s not even on the newspaper staff, but he’s here on deadline night anyway.  He does know the managing editor from swing dancing, but when he’d arrived a few hours ago, Eliza had just pointed straight to Lizzie’s corner.   He’d probably even help Lizzie review Italian tonight if she asked (but she won’t — his accent is atrocious).

Lizzie props her head on an elbow and looks over at Gordo.  The light from his laptop is making his face glow, like he’s the brightest object in the room.  He’s definitely the smartest, and the sweetest.  He hasn’t shaved in a few days and normally Lizzie hates that in a guy, but somehow tonight it looks kinda sexy…

… _wait._ This is  _Gordo_.  What is she doing thinking about how cute he looks in light blue?  Or how he makes the funniest faces when he’s concentrating?   _Stop it_ , she tells herself.   _Don’t do this.  Don’t fantasize about how he’d look with that shirt_ off _. Don’t wreck an amazing friendship because you’re suddenly, randomly horny.  You’re just tired.  A momentary brainfart.  In the morning you won’t even remember this feeling._

Just then the fire alarm goes off — “FUCKING FRESHMAN!” yells Brian, the editor-in-chief — and people start getting up to exit.  Gordo looks over at Lizzie and grins, and she wonders, stomach sinking to her knees, if this feeling’s going to be so easy to forget.


	5. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this piece is the first of a three-part arc

Gordo’s standing in the canned goods aisle, trying to decide whether it’s worth it to save 50 cents by buying the store brand of green beans.  His bank account’s in reasonable shape this semester, but if he really wants to join Lizzie and Miranda in New Orleans over spring break, it really will come down to every penny.  Gas isn’t cheap.

“‘Sup, Gordon.  What’re you doing here?” Somehow Ethan Craft has managed to get sunburned in November. Or his face is just kinda red.

Gordo gestures to his plastic basket, containing one package of turkey cutlets and a frozen mini-pumpkin pie.  ”The logical reasons for visiting a supermarket.”

"Dude!  Are you not going home for Turkey Day? That’s so sad, what gives?"

"My dad’s at a conference all weekend, so they said not to bother. It’s no big deal; I have a pretty big project due on Monday." And it really isn’t.  Gordo’s parents have never made much of a fuss about Thanksgiving — if he didn’t come home for Passover, he’d  _never_ hear the end of it — and he’s looking forward to having the campus to himself, mostly.  ”So are you going home? Or to Renee’s?

Ethan’s face falls slightly.  ”Nah, she broke up with me a few weeks ago.”

"Oh shit, I’m sorry."

"Yeah, well….anyway, it was too late to get a ticket back to my folks, so I’m gonna be here too.  I was just gonna, like, go to Dennys or something on Thursday. Are you really cooking?"

"Yeah, nothing fancy though. I was just gonna stick these in the oven real quick; I can’t handle a full turkey."

Ethan laughs, running his hand though his long blonde hair.  ”I can’t even handle boiling water, man.” 

Gordo hesitates for a moment, but what the hell — “Do you want to come over?  For the meal, I mean?”

"Seriously? FUCK YES."  He’s smiling so hard Gordo can feel the waves of happiness coming off of him.  It’s kind of adorable, actually.  "Should I bring something?  Beer.  I’ll bring beer.  I’ll get a six-pack.  Right now!   Stay right there!"   Ethan runs off.

Gordo slumps against the corn and the lima beans, watching him go. How could Renee have broken up with someone so enthusiastic?  Does she also like kicking puppies and stomping on ladybugs?   And should he have told Ethan he doesn’t really drink?  Maybe he should start, anyway — Tudgeman’s always telling him alcohol tastes better than it looks.   What’s the worst that could happen?


	6. Prandial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two of three

So it turns out beer is pretty good.  It’s not Gordo’s favorite taste, but the turkey came out kind of dry and this washes it down well.  He’s had two cans from the six-pack — well, one and a half — and Ethan’s had the other four. The remains of Thanksgiving dinner lie scattered around them on the floor of Gordo’s suite: instant mashed potato crumbs, a handful of overcooked green beans, four empty bags of barbecue potato chips.  They’ve also eaten the pumpkin pie, leftover lasagne from Tuesday, some turkey bacon that was supposed to be for tomorrow, and three microwave mac’n’cheese cups.

"Not bad for two dudes with half a counter and only one heating source," he says, wiping his greasy fingers on a paper plate.

Ethan raises his final beer can sloppily, like a toast.  ”Why don’t we hang out more often, man?  This is great.”

"I don’t know, but we should — we should fix that."  Gordo burps loudly, and Ethan cheers.   Lizzie would have squealed and Miranda would have hit him.  Gordo needs more guys in his life.  They half-ass a few hands of Texas hold ‘em, pretending that they’re keeping score.  

"You know, Renee’s a bitch." Fuck. Why did he say that?  Why did he say that out loud?  Ethan looks up at him, startled.  "I mean — not a — I mean, you’re awesome.  She’s a loser.  Sorry.  She’s sorry — she will be sorry — shit." Gordo’s backtracking, but it feels more like falling down.

Ethan stares for a moment, then reaches over and grabs Gordo by the shoulders.  Is he going to headbutt him or something?  ”Your eyes are really blue,” Ethan says, and then he kisses Gordo.

So this is only the third time Gordo’s ever been kissed; he’s not, like, an expert or anything, but it’s way better than with Rebecca Marks at summer camp and it’s better than with Liz —  _never mind._

Ethan pulls back and now it’s Gordo’s turn to stare.  The air is heavy with all of the questions Gordo could be asking, things he should be saying, Ethan’s looking nervous and turning kinda pale, but all Gordo can think is that their lips were touching and now they’re not and that seems wrong.

"Her loss," Gordo whispers and he reaches over to the other boy and leans in.

(and nothing makes sense but it’s hands in hair hands on neck scruff scratching warm all over tongues tongues tongues  _beer tastes great)_


	7. Fog and Foam

It’s Sunday morning, not so early that the birds are still waking up but not so late that the dining hall is open for brunch, forcing Lizzie, who doesn’t know why she’s up either, to head off-campus to Starbucks for her cappuccino. (What she really wants is a disgusting amount of scrambled eggs and half her weight in bacon, but she’ll take what she can get.) (What she can get is a much too expensive muffin that’s only a little bit too sweet and also the size of her face.) No one’s there but an elderly Asian man reading the local paper in the corner and sipping tea.

Lizzie curls up in one of the chairs and thinks about getting her laptop out and thinks about getting her moleskine out and ends up thinking about nothing much at all. She almost doesn’t notice when someone sits across from her, and then she doesn’t know how she missed him, his bowtie (!) matches his eyes so blue.

It takes her a minute to place him: Jack who took that film seminar on Fellini with her last spring, Jack who was always carrying a battered Murakami novel around, Jack who didn’t say much but when he did even the prof thought it was deep, Jack who seems to have misplaced his razor since last year, Jack who has said something and she hasn’t heard because she suddenly can’t remember if she’s brushed her hair in the past three days.

"Pardon?" she hates to ask.

"I asked if you wanted another one?" Jack says, pointing at her empty cup.

Lizzie grins.


	8. de(wall)flowering

maybe what happens is Gordo goes to some party, which is weird for him because he doesn’t love beer or thrashing music on shitty sound systems, but Miranda had just dumped some girl (another rugby player, he can’t keep track) and she wanted to go shake off the jitters and the regret with something liquid and deadly and too much dancing

and Lizzie’s watching _P_ _retty Woman_  again and she’s been doing that every weekend since term started 

and he’d been staring at this problem set for too long anyway

so they go to some party, hosted by the Classics society, which you think would be, like, all fancy wines, but the president, Andrew something, is on the crew team so it’s also basically cohosted by all these tall tanned blond men who wear ties on a Saturday night like it’s normal

(though to be fair, Cameron whatshisface currently has his tie wrapped around his head like he thinks he’s Tarzan)

and the keg’s not too bad if he pretends

and Miranda has disappeared into a cloud of metallics and heels

and although there are only so many interesting things to note about the yellow chandelier vibrating with the bass (three bulbs need replacing; he can’t tell what kind of spider built that cobweb from this distance; is that confetti?) or the designs the peeling paint makes in the corners

still this couch is pretty comfortable and his head is buzzing pleasantly and nobody seems to care that he’s not talking and anyway he’s happy just to watch all the rich kids curve and bend around each other

until one of the blurry blondes detaches from the crush of bodies and sits down next to him and comes into focus and it’s Ethan Craft, who throws an arm around him gleefully, jostling his cup

and that green v-neck sweater looks so good on him but Gordo thinks it might look better off of him and Ethan’s eyes go dark and he grabs his hand and suddenly they’re in the hallway in the corner and  _oh_

maybe these prep boys are onto something after all


End file.
